


i know you best

by maguna_stxrk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Getting Together, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maguna_stxrk/pseuds/maguna_stxrk
Summary: “You two seem close.”Steve looks momentarily thrown off by the non-sequitur, but he recovers fairly quickly, continuing his work with the band-aid.“Who?” Steve asks as he scrutinizes his handiwork on Tony’s finger to make sure the wound has been properly covered.“You and Peggy.”Steve stands up, balling up the wrapping of the band-aid in his fist and turning around to throw it in the trash can.“Well, yeah. We’ve known each other for a while. She’s my first friend here,” Steve replies as he pumps some liquid soap into his hand.“You should ask her out,” Tony whispers almost inaudibly, but Steve’s ears pick it up anyway. The man freezes, his frothy hands pausing mid-motion under the running water.“What?”“I’ve seen the way you look at her. You look good together. Besides, I know that she’s totally your type,” Tony says, trying to infuse every bit of sincerity he can muster into his words, because he means it. He wants Steve to be happy, even if—He swallows, fighting a wave of nausea rising up in his stomach.Even if it’s with someone else.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 453





	i know you best

“Excited?” Steve asks, panting a little with the exertion of carrying the box of potatoes in his arms. Tony nods, a bit apprehensive.

Steve enters the modest building and Tony follows suit. The wide dining room inside is already crowded with people, some sitting at the rows and rows of tables, some lining up for a steaming cup of tea or coffee. Steve leads Tony across the room, down a narrow hallway, and then pushes open a door with his shoulder. 

Immediately, hot and humid air hits Tony’s face. 

The kitchen is already bustling with life, volunteers getting ready to make dinner for the people waiting outside. 

Steve sets his box of potatoes down on a nearby counter and Tony moves to do the same with the box of carrots he is carrying, when a cheerful voice rings out:

“Steve!”

Tony sets his box on the counter distractedly, eyes fixated on the beautiful woman coming forward towards Steve with open arms. Steve laughs, enveloping her in a warm hug and something pulls at Tony’s heart. Tony can’t seem to take his eyes off the woman. Her beauty is radiant, her brown eyes bright with glee. When she turns to look at Tony, he gets a better look at how her beautiful brown waves frame her face nicely.

Even before Steve introduces her, Tony knows that this must be Peggy, the woman Steve talks about whenever he tells Tony about his weekly adventures at the soup kitchen. Tony doesn’t know her personally, but he has heard enough stories from Steve to know that this woman is just as beautiful inside as she is out and he knows that Steve is a good judge of character.

She extends a hand out to Tony. 

“Hi, I’m Peggy.” Her red lips widen into a lovely smile. 

Tony can totally see why Steve is in love with her. If this is what Tony is up against, for the first time he truly understands just how much he does _not_ stand a chance. 

“Tony,” he says as he shakes her hand, giving her a smile of his own.

“Nice to finally meet you, Tony. I have heard _so much_ about you,” Peggy gushes. 

From behind her, Steve sighs, cheeks flushing. 

_“Peg,”_ he chides, voice dripping in fond exasperation.

Peggy turns to him with a smirk, one of her eyebrows raised mischievously. 

_“Steve,”_ she mimics and gives him a light pinch on his arm, like they’re sharing the world’s greatest inside joke, and Tony?

Tony is totally fine. Tony is taking a closer look at the light brown patches on one of the potatoes in the box, his fingers reaching out to pick at them, because _wow, they look really interesting right now._

“You guys are just in time. We’re just about to make the vegetable soup,” Peggy says as she begins tying her brown locks up into a ponytail. “Hm, I think— Steve, you and I can begin peeling the potatoes and Tony…” she trails off, looking around the busy kitchen.

“Ah! You can chop up the onions. Would that be okay?” Peggy smiles expectantly. 

Despite his absolute lack of experience in the kitchen, Tony finds himself nodding. 

And so they get to work. 

Tony tries to focus on his task of chopping the onions, he really does, but it’s kind of hard to do so when the literal love of his life is trading light jokes and banter with the person _he’s_ in love with just a few feet away from him, breaking into giggles every few minutes. The kitchen is loud enough that Tony can’t make out whatever they are saying, but they look like they are having _too much fun._

Briefly, he wonders if Steve ever feels half as happy when he spends time with Tony.

His focus is elsewhere instead of on the cutting board, his eyes are welling up with tears every few seconds because of the goddamn onions, and his heart is hurting, so in hindsight, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why he makes the clumsy mistake of slicing his finger with the knife.

_“Fuck!”_

Tony lets the knife clatter onto the kitchen counter and blood begins dripping all over the cutting board. He hisses in pain and just as he is about to examine just how deep the wound is his wrist is abruptly grabbed by someone else.

Looking up in surprise, he sees Steve staring down at his bleeding finger, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Tony, are you okay?”

Tony opens his mouth to answer but before he can, Steve brings the bloody finger to his mouth and _begins sucking on Tony’s finger._

Tony’s brain goes offline after that. 

Steve pulls back to inspect the cut. Tony thinks the bleeding might have stopped, but honestly he can’t focus on anything at the moment because _his finger was in Steve’s mouth._

“God, you should be more careful,” he whispers to Tony.

“Is he okay? Are you okay?” A voice asks from beside him. Tony turns to look at Peggy, who is now staring at his finger worriedly. 

“Do you have a band-aid?” Steve asks.

“I’m pretty sure we keep a first aid kit in the restroom?” Peggy says, her voice rising up in slight uncertainty.

“Okay, we’ll be back in a minute.” Steve nods and turns around to head to the restroom, dragging Tony along by the wrist. 

He leads Tony to the sink, putting his injured finger under the running water for a few seconds before sitting Tony down on the closed lid of the toilet as he rummages around for a band-aid.

“God, Tony. What were you thinking?” Steve questions, his voice echoing in the small restroom.

Tony doesn’t know what came over him, but as he watches Steve meticulously wrap a band-aid over the cut on his finger, he blurts out:

“You two seem close.”

Steve looks momentarily thrown off by the non-sequitur, but he recovers fairly quickly, continuing his work with the band-aid.

“Who?” Steve asks as he scrutinizes his handiwork on Tony’s finger to make sure the wound has been properly covered. 

“You and Peggy.”

Steve stands up, balling up the wrapping of the band-aid in his fist and turning around to throw it in the trash can. 

“Well, yeah. We’ve known each other for a while. She’s my first friend here,” Steve replies as he pumps some liquid soap into his hand.

“You should ask her out,” Tony whispers almost inaudibly, but Steve’s ears pick it up anyway. The man freezes, his frothy hands pausing mid-motion under the running water.

“What?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. You look good together. Besides, I know that she’s totally your type,” Tony says, trying to infuse every bit of sincerity he can muster into his words, because he means it. He wants Steve to be happy, even if—

He swallows, fighting a wave of nausea rising up in his stomach.

_Even if it’s with someone else._

“Oh my God,” Steve breathes and his eyes linger on Tony for a beat too long. Then he turns to finish washing his hands, his mouth still ajar and his eyes deep in thought. 

“What?” Tony asks. 

Steve turns the tap off before turning around to lean against the sink, the edge of it digging into his hip. He gazes at Tony with something akin to wonder in his eyes.

“Peggy’s my type?”

“Isn’t she?” Tony tilts his head in question.

“What makes you so sure?” There’s something off about the way Steve asks the question but Tony can’t seem to put his finger on it. 

“You told me, remember? Your type?”

“I did?” The corner of Steve’s mouth hikes up in a lopsided smile.

“Uh, yeah, Steve. How could you forget?” Tony scoffs in disbelief.

Steve chuckles, looking down at the floor for a moment before resuming eye contact. 

“What was it again? My type?”

“Seriously? Stop messing with me, Steve.” Tony rolls his eyes. 

“No, seriously,” Steve says, biting his lower lip in a way that Tony knows means he is holding back a grin. “You said you’re so sure that Peggy’s my type. So tell me what you remember about my type.” 

Tony looks at Steve like he has sprouted a second head. “What are you doing?”

“Tony, just answer the question. Please,” Steve implores. 

“Ugh, fine.” Tony sighs. “You told me that your type is someone with brown hair, big and beautiful brown eyes, and that they have to be shorter than you, because it makes you want to protect them. Your ideal type is also someone who is kind, smart, and quick-witted. You want someone that you can talk about anything and everything with, someone you can joke around and argue with.” 

“Wow.” Steve grins in admiration. “You really do remember everything I told you.”

“Yeah, _duh._ I am an _amazing_ friend, who also happens to be a genius.”

“You _are_ smart. Most of the time,” Steve muses. Tony opens his mouth to express his indignation, when Steve continues: “And the characteristics you mentioned, all of them apply to Peggy?”

“Well, from what I’ve seen and heard, yeah. She’s one hundred percent your type,” Tony confirms, even as the truth of his own words makes his stomach turn.

Steve’s mouth twitches. “And you can’t think of any other person that matches that description?”

Oh, no. Is Steve in love with someone else?

Tony’s heart plummets, his eyes widening with realization.

“Oh my God, Steve,” Tony gasps.

Steve looks on patiently.

“You’re in love with _Bucky?_ Steve, you _can’t._ He’s engaged to _Sam.”_

Steve blinks at him, jaw dropping slightly. Then he sighs. 

“Tony,” he calls.

Tony’s mind is _reeling_ from this revelation.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” Tony says and finds that he genuinely means it. _Out of all the people Steve could be in love with—_

“Tony, there is one characteristic you missed about my type.” 

Steve straightens up, taking a deep breath.

“My ideal type’s first name has to be Tony,” Steve says, looking straight into his eyes, “and their last name has to be Stark.”

_That’s oddly specifi— Wait._

“And, Tony? Do you want to know what I think?”

_What is happening?_

Steve bends down so that he is on Tony’s eye level, nose just inches away from brushing against Tony’s. Amazement dances in Steve’s blue eyes, a brilliant smile blooming on his face, slow and beautiful.

“I think Peggy was right all along,” Steve whispers. “You _are_ jealous. And you _do_ love me, too.”

Tony feels like someone is squeezing his lungs. He wonders if he is in the middle of some kind of fever dream. 

“...What?” Tony squeaks.

“You do, don’t you?” The way Steve’s smile turns bright and confident tells Tony he is already certain of the answer, even without Tony’s confirmation. Butterflies are wreaking havoc in Tony’s stomach. 

“But— But Peggy is—” 

“Married.”

Tony’s mouth stays unattractively open for a few embarrassing seconds before snapping shut.

“Her husband, Daniel, is just outside. In the dining room. You might’ve seen him when we walked pass. He’s one of the people serving coffee and tea.” 

Oh. 

Tony might have made a _slight_ error in judgement here.

“Um,” Tony manages to say, ever so eloquent.

Steve steps closer, cupping Tony’s cheeks in his hands. He looks down at Tony adoringly. 

“I am _so_ taking you out on a date after this. I am going to court the _hell_ out of you, Tony Stark.”

Tony melts a little inside— okay, _a lot,_ but he has a reputation to keep.

“This isn’t nineteenth century England. No one says _court_ anymore, you dork.”

“But I’m your dork, right?” Steve counters smoothly, his breath on Tony’s lips.

Tony grabs him by the collar and kisses him in lieu of a reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr [@maguna-stxrk](https://maguna-stxrk.tumblr.com/) and let's talk all things stevetony! :)


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